by Raye Wagner
Every time he had to say goodbye to Hope, his stomach clenched with fear. It was not right that so much fell on her slender shoulders. And the waiting was torture. It wasn’t that he didn’t think her capable. Xan had been right about that all along. But being capable hardly protected Hope from the pain she was forced to endure.
“You worry too much,” Atropos said, spinning the small pair of pinking shears on her finger while she reclined on the carpet. “She has a thread of Nyx now. None of the Olympians can harm her.”
Athan leaned back on the couch and stared up at the black rock ceiling. “Not being able to kill her and not being able to harm her are not the same thing. At the rate it’s going, she’s going to have a mental breakdown when this is over.” She’d lost so much, but her friendship with Xan had mostly kept her grounded through it all. Now that he was dead, Athan couldn’t help but worry about how Hope would get through her grief. With a flash of inspiration, he sat up. “Isn’t there something you can do for Xan? Weave another thread in for him?”
Reclining next to her sister, Lachesis sat up. “The son of Ares?”
“Yes.” He thought of Xan, chest tightening. “You know he hated when people called him that.”
Lachesis leaned forward. “Really? He didn’t like Ares?”
“Shouldn’t you know that?” Athan pointed to the bronze rod. “Doesn’t your measuring stick tell you about people?”
Atropos snorted but continued to spin the shears on her finger. “You’d be surprised how little we know at times and how little control we have. We’re not omnipotent or omnipresent. We have our limitations, too.”
Clotho sat quietly next to her sisters, needles clacking as she continued to weave.
“There are times we step in,” Lachesis said, tapping her stick. “But when we do, it is to counter balance something or someone else. To control the fate of everyone would be to remove the very thing Hope was trying to secure by breaking the curse.”
“Freedom to love—”
“Just freedom, Athan,” Clotho said. “She wanted freedom to choose for herself, without the interference or predetermination of the curse. That’s what she’s fighting for. Agency without the unwanted intrusion of the gods.”
Of course she was.
“I don’t deserve her,” he murmured.
“Love isn’t about deserving. It’s about choice.”
He exhaled, feeling a pang of disappointment. “I still wish there was something you could do for Xan. It would mean a lot to her.”
“And you?” Lachesis asked.
He’d had a tumultuous relationship with Xan. They’d been great friends until Isa. Looking back, Athan had been rash and harsh in his judgment of Xan then. And most likely wrong. But even when Xan could’ve thrown Athan under the bus, he hadn’t. Xan had always been honest and respectful. “It would mean a lot to me, too.”
“You shouldn’t give false hope, Lachesis.” Atropos snipped the air with the shears from Hope’s kit. “We can’t restore life on our own volition.” She tucked her black hair behind her ear and gave Athan a pointed look. “I’m sorry.”
Female laughter came from the other side of the door to the small home, and then Nyx walked in with three more women.
Athan’s heart froze as he recognized the pale, cachectic girls with wild hair. The Furies were dressed in plain chitons belted at the waist with thick leather cords.
Atropos, Lachesis, and Clotho dropped their tools and rushed at the Furies. All six of the women squealed and laughed and exchanged embraces. Nyx smiled at her daughters, watching the reunion from the doorway.
Athan debated the best way to excuse himself.
“You are thinking of leaving?” Nyx asked, crossing the room.
The women quieted, and all seven turned their attention back to him.
“Just going to my room so I don’t intrude.”
One of the Furies barked a harsh laugh. “You mean so you don’t have to be with us.”
Courtesy prevented him from saying that he didn’t want to be around the Furies, even if it was true. He was in their realm, at their mercy. “The last time I saw you all together”—he indicated the Fates and Furies with a wave of his hand—“you were binding your brother to Tartarus.”
“Thanatos shouldn’t have betrayed Hades. He let his greed for power make his decisions,” said another of the vengeful goddesses. She extended her hand to Athan. “I’m Alecto.” She pointed at each of her sisters. “That’s Megaera, and that’s Tisiphone.”
She smelled like ash and blood, and even inside, the Furies’ hair writhed. Athan steeled himself and took her hand. “Athan Michael, son of Hermes.”
Megaera’s eyes brightened, and she smoothed her hair. “Son of Hermes?”
Tisiphone pushed her sister. “You know he doesn’t have any interest in you.”
Now he really wanted to leave.
“Daughters, there is much to discuss pertaining to Olympus.” Nyx waved them over to the living space.
Athan stood, but the Furies hissed, and rage and despair brushed by him, an invisible but tangible presence. He wasn’t sure if their response was directed at him or their mother, so he sat back down.
“There is much to discuss here in the Underworld,” Tisiphone said. “Hecate is gathering power and is planning on challenging—”
Lachesis stood. “Don’t interfere with Hecate yet. There is a daughter of Eris who may resolve that problem for us.”
Magaera shook her head. “She will only cause discord.”
Clotho also rose. “Not this one. Her husband was taken by Hecate. The demigod is motivated, but she may need help.” She turned to her mother. “Hades is requesting an audience. We’ll be right back.”
Atropos got to her feet, but Lachesis shook her head. “Just for Clo; you can stay here. I’ll lead her.”
Hermes appeared in the doorway. “Themis is making Hera break the binding now.” He pointed at Athan. “You’ll need to come through the portal Hope creates, or I’ll be bound to Tar—” His gaze landed on the Fates and Furies, and he blanched. “Ladies. Forgive me. I can’t stay, or I’ll be missed.”
As quickly as he’d appeared, he was gone.
Athan scratched his head. His father continued to surprise him. “How do I find the portal out?”
Nyx closed her eyes. “As soon as there is a tear in the binding, I’ll take you.” A smile crossed her pale lips. “You’d better go now, Clo, or you’ll be missed, and Hades may suspect something.”
Lachesis led Clotho out the door.
“Are we going to Olympus?” Alecto asked.
Nyx opened her eyes. “I believe that’s why you’re here. Athan, let me show you where you need to be. Daughters, I’ll be back so we can finish discussing our options.”
By the time Athan got to the place Nyx had indicated, there was a gaping chasm in the black rock, and blinding light poured through the space like a river. Only it was in the sky. The obsidian stone of the Underworld was rough, and Athan hoped he’d find plenty of foot and handholds as he started his climb.
What felt like hours later, Athan pulled himself out of the Underworld into the blinding light of a small bedroom. The space was empty except for a simple bed and dresser. There was an attached bathroom, and he heard someone gasp from inside. The door was ajar, so he inched his way forward.
The reflection in the mirror made his heart swell. She was alone, staring in the mirror, probably seeing herself for the first time.
“You’re still beautiful,” Athan said. He stood in the doorway of the restroom, leaning against the wall. He waved at her body. “But you have to know this is only the wrapping. Which, don’t get me wrong, is quite stunning. But you are far more than a pretty face.”
She ran and crashed into him, wrapping her arms around him. Being held by Hope was the best feeling in the world, and he pulled her closer.
“You’re here,” she said, tilting her face up toward him.
He couldn’t resist k
issing her. Just a peck on her forehead to reassure himself and her that they were safe, together. “Of course. I came as soon as I could. Dad said you broke the binding.”
She was beautiful and brilliant. And he loved her so, so much.
Hope pulled back “Will it free the books?”
“What is your obsession with freeing the Books of the Fates?” he asked. She must’ve asked about it at least a half dozen times. “Do you understand what that means?”
She grimaced, and a sinking feeling tugged deep in his core.
“Doesn’t it mean that they’ll be available to read? Doesn’t it mean that the mortals can learn the truth of the gods?”
She was beautiful and brilliant. But she was also naïve. Athan cupped her face and kissed her nose. “Is that what you thought?” He shook his head, hating that he had to be the one to tell her the truth. “Freeing the Books of the Fates just means they can be accessed from the Olympian library. We can get them in the conservatories now.”
“But what about the Olympians?” she asked with wide eyes. “Please tell me there is something we can do?”
What Hope was suggesting was madness. He led her out of the bathroom and to the small bed where he sat beside her. Taking on the Olympians? He dropped his head to hers, their foreheads touching, and savored the moment. All he wanted was to escape with her.
She’d broken the curse. She’d broken the bindings on the Underworld. What more could anyone ask her to do?
“Haven’t you done enough? Can’t we go home?” he asked. Her body trembled, and he pulled her in for a hug. “Maybe finish school, go to college . . . just have a normal life?”
Her face rested against his chest, and she sighed. “If you could have anything you wanted, what would it be?”
Her question was loaded. But was it wrong that he didn’t want to solve the world’s problems? He really only wanted one thing . . . “You.”
She pulled back and tilted her chin up to meet his gaze. “When I started this, I only wanted to be free from Apollo’s curse. Free to choose who I would love, without having the threat of death hanging over me and my loved ones.”
He knew this. “And you got it. You defied them all, and you won.”
She shook her head. “Don’t you see? I won for me, but there are millions of others—”
Gods, no. “It’s not your fight. You can’t do that. You can’t fight for everyone, Hope. You’re talking about taking on—” He shook his head at the futility of what she was proposing. “You can’t.”
He’d just gotten her back, and what she was proposing was impossible. But she stiffened, and her pale purple eyes flashed fire.
Gods, he loved her for that flare of determination.
Her chin jutted out, and she tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her.
“Stop it,” she snapped. “Let go of me!”
“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping his arms. “I’m sorry.”
He reached out for her, but she pulled back, so he grabbed only a lock of her obsidian hair. It was so black, like the rocks in the Underworld, but at certain times, like now, he could see deep violet hues in the tresses. He wrapped the lock around his finger, wishing it was that easy to pull her back to him. “I’m sorry doesn’t sound like much, so will you let me explain?”
She shook her head, and the light danced around her. “You want to keep me safe. I get it.”
He took a deep breath and let the truth of her words settle in him. “Yes, but . . . I can’t. I understand what you’re saying. You’ve been fighting for the freedom to choose your own path, and we all want that. I want that, too. But, I also want my path to be alongside yours. However, I get that it’s wrong to ask you . . . No, it’s wrong to demand that you follow my course. Even if it’s what I think will keep you safe. So, I’m sorry.”
She smiled, her pink lips responding to his words. She took a step toward him but still kept her distance. “I didn’t want to change the world. I only wanted to change my life.”
“But?”
“But if we do nothing . . . one day we’ll get married. I mean, not necessarily to each other, but, I mean, we will eventually, hopefully, find someone—”
He chuckled, watching her struggle. If he had his way, he’d marry her tomorrow, but the blush creeping up her pale skin told him those feelings were still too new for her to deal with. “I know what you mean. And your point?”
She took a deep breath, her shoulders hiking up with tension. After she slowly exhaled, her shoulders dropped, and she said, “I don’t want to worry that my children or my children’s children will be manipulated by the gods. I don’t want this to happen to them. And when I think about it, I don’t want it to happen to anyone. It’s not right, Athan.”
She was right, and the weight of what she wanted to do settled between them. She wanted to stop the Olympians. He could think of only one way to do that.
“We’re going to need some help,” he said.
She nodded. “I’m sure, but I don’t know how to make it happen.”
He’d seen it once before, and not that long ago, in the throne room of Hades. What she was proposing would be close to impossible, but all the pieces that could make such a thing happen were there. As if Fate had woven it to be so. “Do you believe in destiny?”
Hope closed the final distance between them and hugged him. “No. But I think my new sisters might say differently.”
He returned the hug. “Do you think you can get them here?” He swallowed, knowing they would need them all. “All six of them. And it probably wouldn’t hurt to have Nyx here, too.”
Her shoulders sagged. “I called for her when I cut through the binding, but she didn’t come.”
He ran his hand down her silky hair and kissed the top of her head. He knew deep down he didn’t need her, but his want was so strong, and there was comfort in her touch. His connection to her may have been pulled, but in his heart, those strings were still firmly entwined.
He thought of the Fates, their sisters the Furies, and the goddess Zeus feared most of all . . . Nyx. Athan admitted to himself he was afraid, but he thought of Xan. There had been lots of lessons from the son of Ares over the years, but the lesson he taught by example was the one he’d sealed with his life; Courage wasn’t the absence of fear. It was action in spite of it. So Athan would choose courage. “Then let’s go get them.”
With his arm around her waist, he guided her to the gaping chasm she’d cut from Olympus to the Underworld.
The roof was gone, and the doors as well. The exterior walls had started to crumble, eroded by whatever elements the Underworld had, or maybe it was only time. The stench of the Underworld had waned to a faint musty smell, but perhaps that had to do with the thread of deity woven within her and not the surroundings. Hope blinked and black threads appeared, worn and frayed at the ends, old, shabby, and not properly tied off. Another blink and the thinning webs were gone, leaving only the disintegrating structure.
What did she know of sewing or weaving? Exactly nothing.
“They’re not here,” Athan said.
She didn’t have the heart to be snarky with him, but their absence was obvious.
“Do you know how to locate them?” she asked. How had he found them before? Or maybe they had come to him.
He pulled her to the open doorway, saying, “Let’s see if they left anything.”
She interpreted that to mean he didn’t know how to locate them either.
She tried to think of another way. Could she bind Olympus like Hera had bound the Underworld? Hope didn’t know how, or even if she could, and would she have enough thread to do such a thing? Perhaps only a god would. And even then, they would have to have the right tools. At the very least a sewing needle . . .
Hope followed Athan into the dilapidated structure, thinking of Hera. Hephaestus must’ve given her a needle. Which was why he’d known to give Hope the small sewing kit.
Nyx walked into the kitchen from the hallway and s
aid, “You’ve returned.”
Hope sighed with relief. “Yes. I . . . I’d like your help.”
She looked to Athan, suddenly worried that Nyx would think the idea as crazy as he initially had. What if Nyx refused?
“Hope would like to bind Olympus, prevent the gods from further interference in the mortal realm.” He nodded at Hope, indicating that she should continue.
She took a deep breath and outlined her plan. “Do you think the Fates would teach me to sew?” Hope looked at Athan, more for support than actual clarification. “Do you think the Furies would be willing to hold the gods in Tartarus?”
Studying Hope, Nyx’s pale violet eyes glowed with vibrant intensity. “Do you understand what you are proposing?”
Hope shook her head, the new dark hair brushing against her bare shoulders. “I’m sure I don’t. I’ve jumped into one situation after another without much thought for the consequences. My impulsivity was blind, and it has cost me and my loved ones dearly. I hate that I led Xan to Olympus where he was killed, and now he’s here in the Underworld. I hate that Dahlia is stuck serving Hecate. I hate that Athan lost his immortality for me, and even though he got it back, I still hate that it happened.”
“And now?” Nyx asked. She stroked Hope’s head then cupped her chin.
Hope stared into eyes that matched her own and thought of her mother, Leto. “I was taught to stay safe in a world that provided no safety from the Olympians. I understand that there are other gods, and that there will be more to sort after this. Maybe my trust in you is naïve, but I feel it here”—Hope pointed to her belly where Nyx’s immortal thread glowed—“that you are what you have declared yourself to be. The mortal world needs the gluttonous power from Olympus to be stayed.”
Nyx patted Hope’s cheek. “The greatest philosophers state that wisdom comes with age, but that is a half-truth. Wisdom comes from experience, my Hope. You should be proud of your mother. She raised you to truly see the world around you. And yes, your impulsivity has been costly, but not so much to lose hope for those you love. For they have gained wisdom, too.”